Her Brother's Keeper
by jagwriter78
Summary: About how a little girl got her name. A Peter/Olivia/Henrietta fic, set shortly after the end of season 4. Chapter 2 added 05/20/2012.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Her Brother's Keeper  
**Chapter:** 1  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** Just a little Peter and Olivia ficlet set after the end of season 4.  
**Author's Note:** I know I should be updating Son of Men (I promise I will sometime this week!) but I couldn't help putting this little piece out there. I had the initial idea for it at while back while I was talking with my lovely betareader about the whole Henry/Henrietta thing. Well, the whole conversation culminated in the idea for this fic which, honestly, I never thought I'd write. After the finale though, I couldn't help but write it out today. It's just spellchecked, not beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine. There's gonna be a second part to it which I'll put out in the few days. Hopefully ;)

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The bedroom lay dark and silent when Peter walked in. Under the covers, he could make out Olivia's slender figure. Her face was hidden in the pillows, sheets pulled up halfway over her head. This was how he had found her after he had gotten back from the grocery run an hour ago. After everything that had happened the last couple of weeks and the many sleepless nights they had to endure, he was glad she finally allowed herself to rest. For her, and for their unborn baby.

Thinking back to that moment a few days ago when she had told him that she was pregnant still brought a smile to his face. A couple hours before that, he had held her lifeless body in his arms, had cried at the thought of having her lost forever. But she had cheated death, had come back to him, and if that hadn't been enough of a miracle, there now was a healthy child growing inside of her womb. Their child.

Granted, it had come absolutely unexpected. Their relationship had been anything but ordinary from the beginning, and the question about having children had never really come up before. When she had told him about making sure their new place had a nursery, he had hoped there was more to it than her just testing out the waters. She knew how he thought about children. When she then had asked him if they ever would have a normal life like everyone else, he was sure that she was not just scared about her new-found abilities. There was something different about her, about how she handled what was going on around them. He had never seen her so scared in his whole life.

And now, for the first time in years, freak scientists had been defeated and impending doomsday averted. There was no more battling the universes, no more fighting to stay alive. No more experiments or monstrosities. Nothing. They were done now, they had done their deed. From now on, it would be just them, and their baby. Nothing else mattered.

But then, at moments like these when he was surrounded by utter calmness and he knew that the world would continue turning even without his interference, he had time to think. Not about what lay ahead of him, but of everything that had passed. About the world that no longer was, and with that, he also had to think about the one person he had never met and would never get a chance to know. His son. Henry.

His little face would be etched into his memory forever, and even though September had told him that he was the child that was not meant to be, he would be the child that would not be forgotten.

No matter the circumstances that had brought him into the world, no matter that he had been born to the wrong Olivia Dunham, as September had said, Henry had still been his son, his flesh and blood. He would have loved him like only a father would. Fate was granting him a second chance now, and if he was sure of one thing, it was that he was not going to screw this up, whatever the cost. He would make sure that this child, the child that Olivia was expecting, would be safe and sound forever. That nothing could take him or her from them, and if something or someone tried to interfere, he would fight until the bitter end. For his unborn child. And for Henry.

Ever since September had told him about Henry, he had debated with himself whether or not to tell Olivia. Now, looking at his sleeping girlfriend and knowing that she was carrying their child under her heart, he knew that telling her was long overdue. If he wanted to do this right, she had to know about the son he had had with the other Olivia Dunham, even if the boy no longer existed in this world. Or maybe just because he no longer existed.

Silently, he crept into the bedroom and sat down on his side of the bed. The mattress shifted slightly under his weight and he heard a low moan coming from his right. With a comforting smile on his face, he lay down on the bed and turned to his side, coming face to face with Olivia, who was looking at him through half-closed eyes. He brought his hand up to her face, carefully pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear before his palm came to rest against her cheek, his thumb gently brushing over her smooth skin.

"How's the headache?"

"Better than the nausea," came her mumbled reply as she turned closer into his comforting touch.

"I guess I don't need to ask you what you want me to cook for lunch then."

Her answer was a deep groan while she shook her head at him slightly.

"Got it. No food."

"I'd just like to stay in bed and sleep for a little while longer."

She moved closer to him, molding her body against his in a perfect fit as his hand snuck over the curve of her hip and found its preferred spot on the small of her back. Her hand came to rest against the back of his neck, fingers traveling into his hair, playing with the few short curls that had grown out at the base of his skull.

"Liv," Peter started, and she immediately noticed the serious tone in his voice. With a kiss, she silenced him, telling him "we're fine" and that he didn't need to worry about her or the baby.

But he just shook his head at her, "There's something I need to tell you."

He paused for a moment, drawing in her expression which still was that certain look she always gave him when they were alone, the one that told him just how much she loved him and needed him, now more so than ever. And that just made it all the harder. It still pained him to think about the moment when he had told her about the other Olivia Dunham, about how that loving smile had drained from her face slowly as the realization hit just what exactly he had been telling her. He'd never forget the night when she told him that everything had been taken from her and that she couldn't be with him anymore.

He had thought they had moved past all of that just to have it ripped away again when he had stepped into the machine. Having her at his side and not being able to really have her had been worse than the distance she had shown him in the other timeline after she had found out about his betrayal. For months, looking at the women he loved but that didn't even know him, let alone love him back, had been agony. He'd gotten another chance with her, had made himself a home with her and now... he had to tell her something that could possibly rip everything apart once again. There was nothing worse than having to lose Olivia Dunham all over again. But he also knew that if he didn't tell her now, if she found out eventually, it would make matters even worse. He had to tell her about Henry, and he had to tell her now.

"I had a son in the other timeline."

He saw the smile fade from Olivia's face, felt her fingers still their movements on his neck. And then there it was again, that look on her face, that look of surprise, of doubt and of hurt. He had vowed to himself that he would never do anything that would cause her to look at him like that, but yet, he had done it once again.

But as fast as her expression had switched to that look of hurt and sorrow, it changed into comfort and compassion. She moved slightly, bringing her forehead to rest against his, and then closed her eyes while she inhaled sharply.

"Why did you never say anything?" she finally found her words again, and her hand left its spot on her neck to find his, fingers immediately intertwining.

"I didn't know until I came back to this timeline," he replied, his voice cracking slightly, "September told me when I went into his mind."

For the longest time, there was silence between them. All Peter could hear was Olivia's breathing and feel her thumb brush gently across the back of his hand. She knew where his son had come from, he could tell. He would give her all the time she needed to talk, he wasn't going to pressure her. At least now she knew, and could deal with it whichever way she wanted. Stay silent and do nothing. Be mad and scream at him. Or do the one thing he hadn't really expected.

Her voice was nothing but a whisper against his lips when she formed two short words to say to him. "I'm sorry."

His heart was aching with so much love when he heard those words from her, he couldn't help but let out a short chuckle before he pulled her into a gentle, loving kiss. It never ceased to amaze him just how unpredictable Olivia Dunham could be. She always seemed to care and had so much compassion in her that he had never seen in any one person before. He had just told her that he had had a child in the other timeline, a child that had been born to her alternate, and yet, she seemed to care more about what having lost a child he never knew meant to him than about his past betrayal. And that was part of why he loved her more than life itself.

"What was his name?"

There was so much love in her voice, so much empathy, that for the first time in his life, he asked himself what he had done exactly to deserve this woman. This was not her usual demeanor of "I can cope" when she didn't want to reveal her true thoughts and feelings to him. This was genuine down to her very core.

"Henry."

For the first time since he had learned about his son's existence, he said his name out loud. It rolled off his tongue as if he had said it a million times before, as if he was meant to say it day in, day out. Yet that little boy who carried that name had ceased to exist when he had erased himself from this world almost a year ago.

A year. Henry would be a year by now. He would probably walk, maybe talk. For a moment, he allowed himself to think about that bubbly little boy that Henry could have grown up to be. All the things he could have done with him, everything he could have taught him...

"Henry," Olivia's voice brought him back to reality, "It's a pretty name."

"I never meant for any of that to happen," he told her, and he had difficulties holding back the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. Tears of sorrow for never being able to hold his son in his arms. Tears of love for the woman who was still standing by his side, even after everything that happened. And most of all tears of happiness for that little miracle that they had created, for their unborn child.

"I know."

Her voice was so soothing and comforting, he couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A single tear trickled down his cheek, but she immediately leaned in and kissed it away. Her damp lips lingered against his skin, savoring the feel and taste for a moment before she pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

"I don't know what it feels like to lose a child, especially one you never got a chance to know. I can only imagine how much it must hurt." She let go of his hand and placed it against his chest, right above his heart. "It'll heal with time, I'm sure."

Peter couldn't help but let out a short chuckle, "This is absolutely not how I expected all of this to happen."

"You want me to cry and scream at you? Would it change anything if I did?"

She was right, it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't undo what he had done and most of all, it wouldn't bring Henry back. They both had had their share of hurt and sorrow because of what the other Olivia Dunham had done to them. And if there was any indication that they had moved on from that, that it all lay in the past, that what had happened did not matter anymore, it was this very moment. The very moment they lay in their bed together with the knowledge that there once was a child born to Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop that no longer existed. And that there soon would be another child born to Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop, a child that was supposed to be born and grow. But most of all, a child that would be loved.

"Have I ever told you just how much I love you?"

As he said it, her lips curled into that smile he loved so much about her and her eyes started to sparkle like they always would when he said those three little words to her.

"Not today," she teased him, which brought a smile to his face as well.

"I love you," he whispered right before he placed a tender kiss on her lips while his hand moved from her back and came to rest on her stomach, "Both of you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Her Brother's Keeper  
**Chapter:** 2  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** About how a little girl got her name. A Peter/Olivia/Henrietta fic  
**Author's Note:** Here's part 2 of this fic, as promised. It's just spellchecked, not beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine! I'll leave this story labeled "in progess" for now as I have ideas for a couple more chapters. I don't know if I'll actually get around to typing them out, I guess we'll see. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, whether you liked it or not. I'm always open to any kind of constructive feedback!

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The house lay dark and silent when Peter returned from the lab. Up until a couple months ago, this was how he would have expected to find his home when he returned in the middle of the night. But now that his girlfriend was nine months pregnant, he didn't really know anymore what to expect. Sometimes, she would be roaming the house restlessly in the middle of the night, trying to coax their unborn daughter to sleep and would sleep during the day when their tired baby girl had finally allowed her mother a moment of rest.

First they had been counting the months, then the weeks until their daughter's arrival. Now they were down to days, and the number 12 suddenly sounded like one of the most scariest numbers in the world. 12 more days until his daughter's calculated birth date. 12 more days until he was about to become a father. Give or take. He knew that in the Bishop family, nothing ever went according to plan.

When he silently crept into the bedroom, all he could hear was Olivia's shallow but even breathing and see her huddled form safely tucked in under the covers. He never grew tired of this sight, of just how beautiful she looked when she was asleep. She was at peace with the world, allowed herself to drop her guard and had that certain aura around her that let him fall in love with her over and over again.

The mattress moved slightly when he climbed under the covers and took the sleeping position he had grown to love over the last few months – spooned up behind Olivia, his nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck and her long, blonde hair and his hand splayed protectively over her baby belly.

The reason he loved sleeping like this was not only the close proximity he had to Olivia, but also to his daughter. He remembered well the first night they'd spent in their house, curled up under the blankets like this when a tiny little girl had made her presence known by attempting her very first somersault in her mother's womb.

He still had difficulties finding words for just how magic that moment had been and any other moments that had followed when he had felt his daughter's movements. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would lay awake and just wait for a sign that his baby girl was awake and craving attention. He had gasped the first time he had seen her right hand actually become visible through the skin. Five tiny fingers had wiggled at him curiously before they had disappeared again.

From that moment on, he would often run his hand in circles over Olivia's extended stomach, trying to get any kind of reaction from the baby. He knew that Olivia didn't like that much, especially when she had just found a comfortable position to lay in and had managed to calm their daughter enough to get a moment of peaceful rest. The baby girl always responded to his coaxing, as if she was trying to assure him that she was absolutely safe right where she was.

Tonight though, he had already told himself that he was just going to be content with just laying in the dark, his hand idly splayed on Olivia's baby belly just above her navel. Olivia hadn't had it easy with the baby the last few days, especially after the girl had kicked her hard enough to crack one of her ribs. Feisty and determined, he had called his daughter afterward.

He felt her shift positions slightly and heard her moan into her pillow, "What time is it?"

"Just past two," he replied and pressed a tender kiss against her neck, "go back to sleep."

But sleep was not to be thought of when a moment later he first felt a gentle tug against the palm of his hand, followed by a much harsher kick only a second later. Olivia's hand flew on top of his almost instantly, accompanied by an annoyed groan. They both could feel the baby moving her arms and straining her tiny hands against her mother's womb in an obvious attempt to enlarge her currently very cramped living arrangements.

For the longest while, Olivia silently guided Peter's hand in circles over her stomach, trying to calm their baby girl and coax her back to sleep. Up until a few days ago, their attempts had usually been successful, but as the baby grew bigger and bigger and Olivia's due date approached rapidly, the baby seemed to be getting as miserable and frustrated by her very uncomfortable living quarters as her mother. There was no doubt that she wanted out.

So when she didn't give in and started kicking her mother near her ribcage with her knee, Olivia finally had enough. She nudged Peter with her elbow to move back before she rolled onto her back and slid up to the rest against the headboard. That was how she had spend most nights the last week, propped against the top of the bed in a sitting position, waiting for her baby to fall back asleep. As uncomfortable the position was for Olivia, especially when she was exhausted and tired and wanted nothing but sleep, it seemed to be her daughter's favorite position to calm down and fall asleep.

Peter rested his head against her shoulder while his hand still moved over her belly in circles. He knew there was only so much he could do to make Olivia feel comfortable, and to him, that was frustrating as hell. She was clearly miserable in her current state, and even though she never really complained to him about it, he would sometimes hear her cry out in frustration when she thought he wasn't near.

"Just a few more days, hon. Then we'll have our beautiful, little baby girl," he murmured, but he knew exactly that whatever he said, it wouldn't help – especially when said baby girl's parents were not quite prepared for her arrival yet either.

They had started decorating the nursery right after they had moved into the house, and even though all the parts of the baby's crib stood neatly placed against the wall in the nursery, Peter had not yet gotten around to assemble it yet. At first, it had been procrastination that had kept him from finishing the crib. He had kept telling himself that he had all the time in the world. But then the months until his daughter's arrival had turned into weeks and now into days, and her nursery was far from being finished.

But that didn't really annoy him as much as the fact that they still had not chosen a name for their baby girl. They had pinned a list on the fridge, and currently no less than twentyfour names had been written down by either him or her. They had crossed out a few, only to add several more shortly after. None of the names they had come up with so far sounded quite right though. Nothing just rolled off his tongue like his daughter's name was supposed to.

"I can practically hear you think again."

Olivia's voice was nothing but a whisper in the still of the night that broke him out of his daze. It still amazed him just how easy she could read him. Even when he tried to hide it from her, tried not to show any kind of emotion, she was able to read him like an open book. It was a part of what he loved about her – the way she cared and went about it. She never pushed him, never admonished him when he tried to keep something from her. Instead, she always found just the right moment to ask him about it in such a gentle manner that he always opened up to her, no matter what the problem was.

"She needs a name," he replied and was answered with a gentle nudge from his daughter right where his hand had come to rest on Olivia's belly. He had to chuckle at the girl's apparent insistence that it was about damn time for her parents to give her a name. Peanut, jellybean and little pea just didn't cut it anymore.

"I have one final suggestion," Olivia told him as her hand snuck up to the back his neck, tenderly teasing the freshly cut stubble of hair, "You have to promise me though to really think about it before you say no."

He was prepared for almost everything, but not for the name she finally told him. _Henrietta._ His mind started to race almost immediately, and his first instinct was to tell her no. He would not be naming his daughter after the son he had lost. He still thought about Henry almost daily. Sometimes the thoughts came totally unexpected. Like when he was in the store with Olivia to pick out clothes for their baby and he came across a black leather jacket and immediately had to wonder what his son would have looked like wearing it. Or when he was out in town and heard a mother calling for their son Henry, he couldn't help but turn and see if maybe it was his little Henry that came running, that he had somehow found a way back into existence as well.

Often, he had also found himself looking into strollers, studying the toddlers to maybe catch a certain resemblance and familiarity in a hopeless attempt to figure out what exactly his son would look like now. Over time, these instances had become less and less though as his daughter grew more and more inside Olivia's womb. He didn't want to wonder anymore, didn't want to dwell in all those 'what would he be like's anymore. He had accepted that he never would get a second chance with Henry. But that would never change the fact that he would always think about him and carry his memory in a very special place in his heart.

And with him, so did Olivia. He still couldn't quite understand why she had accepted Henry's existence, or now non-existence, the way she had. After all, the boy had been a result of the biggest mistake he had ever made in his whole entire life. She had assured him several times that she was past that, that it didn't matter anymore, that she had made her peace with it. But most of all, she always kept telling him that Henry had been his son, no matter the circumstances that he came to be, and that that was all that mattered to her.

"Why?"was all he could muster before his voice broke.

"Because she's a reminder that everything we have sacrificed the last few years has not been in vain," she paused shortly, waiting for a reaction from Peter. When she got none, she went on, "I know she will never be able to replace Henry, but at least she can keep his memory alive."

_Henrietta._ That name rolled off his tongue like no other, and he came to realize that maybe naming his daughter in honor of the son he had lost might not be as bad an idea as he had thought it would be. When he first had come across the name Henrietta, for a fleet second, he had thought about proposing it to Olivia. But then the pain and anguish that always came with remembering his son had pierced his heart almost instantly. He couldn't imagine calling out for his baby girl, only to be reminded every time he did that he had sacrificed an innocent child for the well-being of two universes.

But then, he also knew that Olivia was right. Nothing they had sacrificed had been in vain. Because if they hadn't, they wouldn't be here now, in bed in the still of the night, discussing names for their baby. He had seen their future once before, a future without children in a world that was fighting for its existence. A future in which he had unknowingly killed his son when destroying the other universe. So he had made the decision to alter this future, to not destroy the other side, in hope of turning both their futures into better ones. Instead, the outcome for Henry had been the very same – he had ceased to exist. Again, September's words come to mind. _The boy who was not meant to be._ Yet, he came to be and that could and should not be forgotten. Ever.

_Henrietta._ Maybe it was the perfect name for a little girl who probably would not have come to be if it wasn't for her brother's sacrifice. He felt a light kick against his palm where it rested on Olivia's baby belly, followed by a gentle fluttering motion that almost felt like the baby was trying to caress his hand. _Henrietta. _His daughter. Her brother's keeper.

"Yes," he finally whispered, "Henrietta."


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